


if only my life

by MFLuder



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Always a Different Sex, Angst, Angst and Tragedy, F/M, Female Jason Todd, Jason Todd is Robin, Latino Jason Todd, Religious Conflict, Religious Guilt, Unplanned Pregnancy, always-a-girl!Jason Todd
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-16
Updated: 2019-09-16
Packaged: 2020-10-18 19:54:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20644754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MFLuder/pseuds/MFLuder
Summary: She cuts him off. “Dick. I’m late.”Her stare is finally unflinching, challenging him to figure it out, though her hands still flutter around her waist.Her stomach, rather.Oh.Oh.





	if only my life

**Author's Note:**

> Originally intended for the [JayDick Flash Fic](https://jaydick-flashfic.tumblr.com/post/187154796638/new-prompt-late) challenge _late_, and thus is it with no small amount of irony that I post this...2+ weeks late.
> 
> The ending implications of this fic may be triggering for some.
> 
> I have joined the ranks of those who headcanon Jason as latinx.
> 
> Thanks to [reah22](https://reah22.tumblr.com) for looking this over!

He wakes up hard and fast, glancing at the clock on his dresser: three am. That means patrol is probably over. He’s not entirely certain what actually woke him, but when Dick goes to his window, sure enough, there’s a flash of red and black and gold. 

He grabs a black sweatshirt from the pile of clean laundry and shoves his head through even as he’s climbing the fire escape up to the roof of his apartment building, blending in easily with the shadows.

Jay greets him in full Robin attire, hair tied up in a tight bun. The uniform hasn’t changed much, but Jay wears more armor than Dick ever did, and instead of only green panties, she’s got leather pants. After a once over and no bleeding or costume rips found, it seems patrol was easy and she’s just here to visit him.

She looks anxious, though, pacing in two step lines. It unnerves Dick. She doesn’t stop him when he steps into her space, kisses the top of her head, her lips, chastely, just lets out a soft sigh.

“Where’s B?”

She pulls away an inch, smirks at him. “Don’t worry. He’s already on the way back to the manor. I know you two are in _una lucha_, a tiff, again.”

He shifts his weight. “I don’t—”

She grunts and rolls her eyes. “Don’t worry about it, Golden Boy. Next week you’ll be his favorite again.”

He refrains from grinding his teeth. One of the few things that annoys him to no end about Jay is her firm belief that Dick can do no wrong in Bruce’s eyes when Dick has been struggling to live up to Bruce Wayne and Batman for nearly ten years. He doesn’t think Bruce cares _because_ Jay is a girl, but he knows the big man in black lets her get away with way more than he ever let Dick do. Sure, he’s just as tough when it comes to training, when it comes to their night job and Jay works harder than anyone Dick has known to earn her place. But Dick could never have gotten out of going back to the manor after patrol was completed to go see his girlfriend; he tried, several times. Jay bats her long lashes and B caves.

Maybe it’s second child syndrome.

Then again, Dick is also willing to give his little wing anything she asks for, too, so maybe it’s just _Jay_, all bravado, bubble gum, cuss words, and muscles and smirks.

“So, what’s up? You okay?” he asks, doing an awful job of changing topics. He’s kind of hoping she came to spend the night, but normally she asks him ahead of time; their schedules, her with Batman and school, him with the Titans and police training, have made it more difficult to meet.

He never brings up to Jay that every day he sits through training, there’s a wiggling piece of guilt that tells him he’s committing a crime each time he sees her. Honestly, she’d be pissed at him he didn’t think she could make up her own mind, that Dick was somehow in a position of power to influence her. Jay’s not much for rules and laws; her code is about consent and harm.

“I’m not _not_ okay,” she responds, suddenly nervous again, and her comment is far more evasive than usual. Jay is blunt, honest. It’s not that she can’t lie – it’s a Robin lesson after all – but she prefers to intimidate with truth than slide through with a lie.

She’s refusing to look at him and she’s jittery, like she’s had too much caffeine.

Dick takes a step back, hopes of an athletic early start to the day fading. He realizes the usual scent of cigarette smoke is absent, gone even from her hair. Has Jay quit? It would explain the extra energy, the small twitches to her hands.

She takes a moment, drawing herself up and out of his arms. She reaches up and lets down her hair, curls tumbling over her shoulders, as sweeping as the cape. She looks like she’s about to confront Two-Face with her stance, but her gaze remains uncertain, blue-green eyes cloudy under the domino.

“I’m late.”

Dick blinks. “You’re late? I’m sorry, Jay, babe, did I forget we were supposed to meet tonight? Because it’s not a big deal if you’re late since I—”

She cuts him off. “Dick. I’m _late_.” 

Her stare is finally unflinching, challenging him to figure it out, though her hands still flutter around her waist.

Her stomach, rather.

Oh. _Oh_.

He lets out a hiss of air in shock as it dawns on him.

“Weren’t you on birth control? Bruce makes everyone—"

A joyless laugh. “Didn’t you wonder why I started insisting on condoms? Alfie took out my Nexplanon last month. It had moved in my arm, started causing problems. Doc Thompkins was going to put an IUD in soon. I already had the appointment.” She pauses for a moment. “One of Maroni’s men grabbed my arm, two months back. Guess I didn’t notice soon enough. I hadn’t linked the fight and the movement of the implant until I’d already missed my period.”

Two months, Jesus.

“What are you going to do?” he blurts out, suddenly feeling significantly younger than his twenty years. “Can Doctor Thompkins do abortions?” 

_Fuck_. The instant Dick looks at her face he knows he’s said the wrong thing. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he corrects in a rush. “I’m just surprised, I didn’t mean—"

“_No sé_,” she says, voice quiet. She looks lost.

“_Mi padre_,” she starts, then sighs with frustration. “My mom, she’s the one that made me go to church. But Papá, he’s the one who spoke about _ángeles_. Avenging, terrifying _ángeles_. They carried out God’s justice. He taught me about _Santa Muerte_ and the concepts tangled in his stories and my head. Angels are death. When I was first _a las calles_, the streets, one night Batman flew above my head. I couldn’t see him, didn’t know him yet, but I thought, ‘Papá told me about the angels.’

“But, Dick.” One hand flutters to her stomach, more a gesticulation than a deliberate placement. “This can’t even breathe on its own, yet. It has no name, it has done nothing wrong. How can I take its life before it even starts?”

Dick’s heart cracks in two as he watches her face crumple. Jay is never unsure of herself; she’s always bigger than life, cocksure and arrogant. She knows her talents and doesn’t shy from them. It’s what allows her to go toe-to-toe with Penguin and his scissor-hand assassins, or ride along with the Titans like she belongs, lets her dole out snark to Roy and wave away his often inept flirtations. It’s part of what attracts Dick to her so much, much more than the women his own age. She’s human, not Amazonian or Super or Martian, but she’s as tough as they are.

He reaches out, touching first her shoulder, then the cape, then pulling her into his arms as she heaves out one gut-wrenching sob against his chest.

“Little wing,” he croons, quiet, soothing. “Whatever you decide, I’m here.”

She composes herself, though she doesn’t lift her head. Like she’s afraid of looking at him. “But how can I do this to you? To Bruce?” She does look up then, a fervor in her watery eyes; they appear the color of a tide pool, green and blue mixed into aqua. “How can I stop being _Robin_?”

The anguish is deep and it’s clearly tearing her apart. He shuffles them the few steps to the wall and slides down it, taking her with him, cradling her in his lap. He first presses his lips to the top of her head and then lays his cheek on it. One arm supports her body, keeps her clutched to his chest. The other he lets stroke her hair, offering them both comfort.

It flows like black satin over his fingers. He remembers, when he first met her, she had a boyish cut. It was only after bringing her back to the mansion, after Bruce found her jacking his tires, that Batman realized this wasn’t a skinny precocious ten-year-old boy but a thirteen-year-old girl. For the first year, they agreed to keep her hair short and she’d fooled the villains into thinking Robin didn’t age any more than Batman did. By fourteen though, she’d started to develop the curves malnourishment had stymied and Bruce let her grow out her hair. It still wasn’t as long as Donna’s, but it held the starlight as well and curled just as beautifully; a sharp contrast to the initial pageboy.

He makes gentle shushing noises even though she’s not crying or trying to talk; he’s mostly doing it for his own benefit. He keeps it up, murmuring her name, her nickname, even an ‘it’s okay, baby,’ until he’s found the right words.

Her face is soft, beautiful, torn, when he lifts it to look at him. “I’m not…I’m not ready to be a dad, yet, Jay.” He kisses the corner of her mouth when she flinches. “But I’m with you, whatever you decide. I wasn’t ready for my parents to die – but I made it through. This, this is a gift, even if I don’t know anything about babies. Besides,” he smiles, gentle, afraid to spook her. “Any baby of ours would be beautiful. Loved. And with Bruce as Grandpa? They’ll also be terrifyingly smart and probably Robin by age eight.”

She bites her lip. It looks bruised to hell from all the biting. “My mom had me when she was seventeen. I think that’s why she didn’t love me. What if…what if I don’t love it, Dick?”

“Jesus, baby. _Jay_,” he says, peppering her face with kisses, bringing her downturned lips to his, pressing them together, licking into her mouth and pouring all the love he feels for her into the kiss. He lets his hand drift from her hair to grab her hand, clutches it to his chest, spreading it over his heart, like his own calm heartbeat could soothe her. “If you’re even asking that, I know you will. Little wing, you love me for some stupid reason, of course you’ll love her.”

His words are fervent, impassioned. She pulls away and looks at him.

“Of course, I love you, _tonto_. Everyone loves _you_, Dick.”

He shakes his head. “Not like you.”

A faint blush creeps on her cheeks and he finds it endearingly sweet that _that_ embarrasses her; they’ve made a baby together and his clumsy attempt to express his feelings is what knocks her off her game.

“Her?” she asks, after a minute.

He shrugs. “It’s a feeling.”

“That’s not a thing, Dick.”

“My mom said she knew I was a boy right away. Maybe it’s a Romani thing. Maybe it’s just a Grayson thing.”

They stay there for a while more in silence, just holding each other. Eventually, he asks, “You want to come inside? It’s getting cold.”

“It’s only September,” she says, but Jay lets herself be hauled back up and then they creep down the roof and fire escape into his third story apartment. He controls his innate desire to carry her; she wouldn’t appreciate the sentiment. Probably give him a lecture about being pregnant, not broken, even though twenty minutes ago she was terrified by the very fact.

“Come to bed,” he whispers, tugging on the Robin collar to find the snaps that keep the cape on. She nods and lets him undress her until she’s in nothing more than a sports bra and boyshorts. She peels off the mask herself. He sheds his own clothes with significantly less care than he did hers and crawls into bed behind her, pulling her body into the space carved out by his hips.

He can’t tell yet that she’s pregnant. Her stomach is still flat, nothing more than the natural bit of curve all women – even one as dedicated to core exercises as Jay – have. She’s almost as big as him now, height and width; his body doesn’t cover her as much as it did even six months ago. Her growth spurt and training continue to make her a powerhouse. Dick seems to have a thing for women who could break him. Her arms are defined, her thighs thick; they’re her least favorite part of her body, too masculine she says, even as she admits they’re useful for her work as Robin. But they’re Dick’s favorite part. Soft where they’re not scarred, golden in color. He loves being between them, the way they grip his head tight, how her muscles and skin surround and fill all his senses when he laps at her slit. He loves that they trap her smell, how they part for him. Jay’s thighs are Dick’s heaven.

She’s in no mood for sex and honestly, neither is he, too emotionally exhausted. But as he tucks her body into his, separating those thighs with one of his own, tangling their feet, he traces patterns into her skin, trails his hand in between her legs and cups her mound, and then lets it drift up to her belly. 

“You want to keep her, don’t you,” he says, not actually a question.

One of her hands lays on top of his. “_La hijita_. _Nuestra hija_. Yes, I do, Dick.”

He kisses her shoulder. “We can tell Bruce tomorrow.”

She shakes her head; he can feel her hair move against his bare chest. “Not yet. I will. We will. But. _Deja que sería nuestros_. Let’s let it be ours, for a while longer.”

“Okay, little wing.”

They fall asleep, three spirits, two bodies.

~~~

It’s the last time Dick sees her for five years. When they next meet, there is no hijita, only a red helmet, cold eyes, a streak of white hair, and the gut-wrenching realization that Dick still lost both of them – even as his once little wing stands strong before him.

**Author's Note:**

> *I imagine girl!Jay as being built like an Olympic volleyball/soccer player; tall, broad, thick thighs from running suicides and needing bursts of speed and power, buff arms. A body type that might read more “masculine” so that at thirteen she could easily be confused for a small boy, and as a teen growing into this body she’d be built like Kori but without the usual comics overexaggerated bust, ass, and tiny waist.
> 
> Follow and chat with me [on tumblr](http://mf-luder-xf.tumblr.com)!


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